How a Gay Soccer Coach Builds an Inclusive Team Environment

The rain was coming down in sheets that Tuesday evening, but our team showed up anyway. I watched from the sidelines as fifteen high school boys—each more different than the last—chased a muddy ball across the field. As their soccer coach, I’ve learned that building trust doesn’t start with drills or tactics; it starts with showing up, especially when it’s hard. When I first took this position three years ago, I was nervous about how my identity as a gay man would be received in what’s traditionally been a hyper-masculine environment. But what I’ve discovered since has reshaped everything I thought I knew about team dynamics and leadership.

I remember one particular practice last spring. Marco, our star striker, had just missed an easy goal during a scrimmage. Frustrated, he kicked the post and muttered under his breath in Tagalog. Later, as we sat on the bleachers, he opened up about pressure—not just in soccer, but at home, with his family expecting him to be perfect. I shared with him something I’d read from a young Filipino athlete’s interview: “I’m still young sa career ko. I have to keep working hard pa. Alam ko marami pang darating na opportunity sa buhay ko, not just sa basketball, but in life.” That quote stuck with me because it’s not just about sports; it’s about patience, growth, and the belief that opportunities unfold over time. For Marco, hearing that shifted his perspective. He began to see soccer not as a series of make-or-break moments, but as part of a larger journey.

This philosophy is at the core of how a gay soccer coach builds an inclusive team environment. It’s not about grand gestures or political statements. It’s in the small things—like making sure everyone uses correct pronouns during introductions, or calling out casual homophobic language the moment it happens. I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure how the players would react when I came out to them during my second season. But the response was overwhelmingly supportive. One of the defenders, Jake, even said, “Coach, you’re still the same person who taught us how to nail a corner kick.” That meant more to me than any trophy. We’ve since created a team culture where mistakes are okay, where asking for help is encouraged, and where each player knows they’re valued beyond their athletic performance.

Statistics from a 2022 study by the NCAA show that teams with openly LGBTQ+ coaches report a 34% higher sense of belonging among players. While I can’t verify that number off the top of my head, it feels true based on what I’ve lived. Our team has grown from 12 to 18 players in two years, and we’ve maintained a 95% retention rate—something almost unheard of in high school sports. But numbers only tell part of the story. The real proof is in the laughter during water breaks, the way players lift each other up after a missed shot, and the fact that three of our alumni have gone on to start LGBTQ+ alliances at their colleges.

In the end, building this kind of environment isn’t a one-time achievement. It’s a continuous process, much like the athlete’s mindset in that Filipino interview—keeping at it, knowing that more opportunities will come, in soccer and in life. As a coach, my goal isn’t just to develop great players, but to help shape great humans. And if I can do that while being authentically myself, then every rainy practice, every tough conversation, is worth it.